THE DUSTSHEET

This a very sad edition of the Dustsheet as this August we say goodbye to two of our most longstanding members of staff.  In the 'present restructuring' Aubrey Stevenson, our county local studies librarian has been made redundant and our chief conservator Bill Cochrane has elected to depart.  Both these colleagues are widely respected in their professional fields and their disappearance will be a very sad and grave blow to the Record Office.  Articles concerning both feature in this edition, but let it suffice to say that they will be sorely missed by us all.  We send them both our very best wishes for the future.

In the last issue of the Dustsheet, Carl Harrison wrote his valedictory article and rode off into the sunset.  Rather than leaving regular Dustsheet readers wondering what came next, if indeed there was a ‘next’, I’ve been asked to introduce myself as Carl’s successor as Chief Archivist for Leicestershire, Leicester and Rutland.  Many of you I know personally, through your research visits to the Record Office, where I’ve been working since 2001.  But for those who haven’t had any contact with me, here’s a quick tour around my life to date.  

I’m not from hereabouts – I hale from the city of Durham, that wonderful World Heritage City, and my own original research was inspired by the wish to find out something about the people who lived and worked there in the Middle Ages.  I was very fortunate to spend my research days working in the Prior’s Kitchen, just off the cloisters of the Cathedral, where the documents were stored in those days (now it’s part of a café, I think).  The medieval title deeds were still organised under the medieval monastic cataloguing system (by priory office-holder) in small sub-divided medieval compartments.  The old PRO building in Chancery Lane was my other happy hunting ground, for the records of the medieval bishopric of Durham, such as they survived, had been transported there in the late 19^th century – in a very dirty (and I mean dirty, black dust) state.

I stuck to the north for most of my education – St Andrews as an undergraduate, York as a postgraduate, and Liverpool to train as an archivist – and only progressed south to find work.  Yes, I confess I miss the north, and I try to return there at least once per year to get a ‘fix’ of northern air!

After a stint in London, working at the House of Commons, which was quite a different kind of education, I moved to Leicester in 1984, first to the Department (as it was then) of English Local History at the University of Leicester, teaching students, and then, while my children were small, editing a journal, ‘The Local Historian’, for the British Association for Local History, from our front room.  I returned to full-time work in 2001 when I became an Assistant Keeper of Archives at the Record Office in Wigston.

So it has been a rather unorthodox, not to say eclectic background, which brings me to this job right now, succeeding Carl Harrison – which is both a challenge and a great opportunity.  It is a time of change for the Office.  We, along with our colleagues in the county Museums and Arts and Outreach services, have undergone restructuring this year, and this has had a marked effect on the Record Office.  Most noticeably, and as mentioned elsewhere in this Dustsheet, the post of Local Studies Librarian, held by Aubrey Stevenson for many years, has changed its remit considerably, and the new post title Keeper (Access and Information) reflects its expanded role.   Aubrey decided it was not a job for him, and consequently he will be leaving the Record Office, and the County Council, in August after long and distinguished service.  His expertise and vast knowledge of his subject area will be missed.

However, be assured that the Local Studies Library at the Record Office will not fossilize.  It will continue to be a much valued resource for the whole of Leicestershire, Leicester and Rutland and will be further developed, especially in terms of accessibility. We are recruiting to the expanded post of Keeper (Access and Information), which contains within it oversight of the Local Studies Library, this summer.  Mike Raftery and Evie Wattam continue their work as librarians in the Record Office, and can be contacted on specific library matters during this period of change, while Local Studies enquiries will be dealt with by Record Office staff in general.

In other ways, restructuring will be less visible to the outside world, although it has been important to the staff concerned.  We must congratulate two members of staff who were successful in their applications for posts which had been redesigned:  Robin Jenkins continues much of his former remit as Keeper (Collections), but draws under his wing our two colleagues based at County Hall who operate a Modern Records service.  Karenna Fry becomes our one and only conservator, with the title Assistant Keeper (Conservation) and with a remit so wide that her work will have to be carefully prioritised to avoid burn-out.  This will probably mean that her past heavy involvement in our exhibitions programme will have to be scaled down as she concentrates on the core work of conservation.  

We say farewell to another long-serving member of staff at the end of August, when Bill Cochrane, our senior Conservator, leaves the service, but he is to return as a ‘super Volunteer’, he tells us, working on projects like the Ashby museum maps restoration project.  It is good at a time like this, when we are somewhat stretched in staffing terms, to have the help and support of a growing team of volunteers, whose expertise is much appreciated.  This is a great development in the office and a number of really good indexes have been created to give better access to a number of sources which are of use to family historians and a wide variety of other researchers.  

So our new structure will concentrate our activities on two main areas:  collections and access to them.  Of course the two are intertwined – without good finding aids (the catalogues) the documents and library resources remain concealed from our researchers.  As a long-time historical researcher myself, I can appreciate the importance of trying to meet the needs of our users, and the frustrations that come from battling with a variety of complex finding ‘aids’, but you will have to be patient with us.  Just as we are having to make compromises in the office between what we would all like to do in terms of cataloguing and getting through our backlogs, and the reality of what can be achieved given staff numbers and the need to keep the public service running, so we’ll not always be able to give you just what you want – instantly.  We are going to have to take a long, hard, look at the way we work and our present priorities. Our professionalism will be challenged, but it will show through our adaptability, our capacity to be flexible, and our ability to find ways to provide you with an excellent service.  

I would never have imagined that at the ripe old age of 62 I would be penning words of farewell to a colleague who is both my senior (in position) and junior (in years).  The Record Office is to lose the post of Local Studies Librarian.  Henceforth there will be no one whose principal duty is to supervise the "Leicestershire Collection".

Born in Purley, Surrey, Aubrey came to Leicester at the age of nine when his father's job brought the family to the city.  He was educated at Wyggeston Grammar School where he showed an aptitude for languages and - more importantly - developed a fondness for books.  Curiously enough, though, he began his working life - and wait for this! - in the hardware trade.  It was Hubbard's of Leicester that first witnessed the phenomenal work rate and absolute attention to detail that have been the hallmarks of his career ever since (I am assuming here that he didn't just muck about).  But hardware - admirable though it is and necessary to us all - was never going to hold on to an Aubrey Stevenson.  It is tempting to imagine that his mind was irrevocably changed the day an irritating customer came into the store with a long list of requirements beginning with four candles.  But in reality it was the constant lure of books and the growing realisation that there was a more appropriate outlet for his talents which eventually steered him towards librarianship and the three-year course at Loughborough Library School, leading to his Associateship of the Library Association (subsequently restyled MCLIP).

His first professional post was as Senior Assistant at St. Barnabas Library in Leicester.  He was subsequently Branch Librarian at Scraptoft, Rushey Mead and Belgrave before making his defining move to the Reference Library in Bishop Street and joining the Central Area Information Team.  In 1976, only 5 years after his career had begun, he was appointed Leicestershire Studies Librarian, ironically succeeding another Aubrey - Alan Aubrey Broadfield - who had held the post since 1963.

We talk about achievements.  Here is one which few people will be aware of today.  The local studies library that Aubrey took charge of in 1976 began its life as a core collection of books which the City Libraries had inherited from the defunct Mechanics Institute in the early years of the century.  It was a Leicester-biased collection.  It served the city first and foremost and the county (and Rutland) as an afterthought.  Successive librarians added to the collection accordingly, creating a collection strong on Leicester but much sketchier on its surrounding county.  There remains no evidence of that imbalance today.  Leicestershire and Rutland are as fairly and widely represented as the city.  The collection - as never before - lives up to its name.  It all had to be done retrospectively - by the diligence, the doggedness and the dedication of a librarian who was frequently to be observed by his colleagues browsing antiquarian booksellers' or auctioneers' catalogues in his tea break, because he knew there was not enough time in the standard working day to get the job done to any degree of satisfaction.

And here's another thing : in the pre-Aubrey (Stevenson) years the collection consisted almost uniquely of books, pamphlets, newspapers, periodicals and maps.  He has added enormously to the collection in all those categories, but from the moment of taking up the post he had identified a deficiency in the collections.  He recognised that our history is also written in the smaller, more fleeting things - the theatre programmes, the literature from estate agents, the electioneering pamphlets, the postcards, posters, takeaway menus, handouts - the everyday spam of life.  During his time of stewardship the library's holdings of printed ephemera have grown from next-to-nothing to a collection of impressive size and scope, which is only now beginning to be appreciated by researchers as a valuable well of reference.  Building a local collection is not a flash-n-the-pan exercise; it requires long-term vision and patient application.  It requires someone's lifework.

In 1980 Aubrey's title was changed to County Local Studies Librarian, the better to reflect the broader responsibilities that the job had accrued following the reorganisation of local government in 1974.  Since then he has worked in an advisory role across the county and has been active on numerous local and regional committees, representing the county's interests - among other things - in oral history, inter-library co-operation, urban studies and the micro-filming of newspapers and historical directories.  His contribution in all these areas will be sorely missed by all concerned.  The Leicestershire Archaeological and Historical Society is fortunate, however, in retaining his services for the time being as its Honorary Librarian.

Aubrey has compiled two published bibliographies of Leicestershire local history material (admittedly somewhat limited in their appeal to the buying public!); but his "Get to know Bradgate", published in 1977, turned out (I believe) to be Leicestershire Libraries' biggest-ever selling title.

In 1992/3 Aubrey supervised the move from Bishop Street when the Leicestershire Collection joined forces with the Record Office archive in Wigston.  It was the greatest upheaval the library had seen in nearly 100 years of its existence, but needless to say, the chaos that might have ensued never did.  Under Aubrey's vigilant and methodical eye the old library took shape again in its new home, in perfect working order and ready to serve the first customers through the door on opening day.

In the intervening years Aubrey has played a full and active role in the life of the Office.  He has given talks to a variety of organisations, lectured at his old library school and led many parties of librarians on familiarisation tours of the Collection.  He has taught archivists a few tricks of the library trade and picked up a few of theirs in return.  He has supervised the searchroom and has even been receptionist when necessary.

But amid all the distractions and all the peripheral requirements of his job he kept his focus on one thing above all else - on that local studies collection which had been entrusted to his care in 1976.  He determined to make it as comprehensive as it could possibly be, undaunted, it seems, by the sheer scale of the task he had set himself.  There are still gaps to be filled, of course, still an intimidating backlog of sorting and cataloguing to be dealt with.  Aubrey has always operated with too little staff-time at his disposal, too modest a budget and - latterly - too little physical space in which to sort and shelve the unceasing influx of newly-acquired material.  But the legacy of his determination and unswerving purpose is a local studies library of which everyone in Leicestershire and Rutland should be proud.

One hundred years from now - barring Armageddon - Aubrey Stevenson's work will still be used on a daily basis in this Record Office.  The stock he put in place and the thousands upon thousands of items that he indexed and catalogued will be rewarding researchers generations hence.

Aubrey will not look back on 2008 with any great affection.  It was the year he went into hospital for an operation, the year his mother was diagnosed with a serious illness - and the year he was made redundant.  But it was also the year that brought one great joy into his life - the birth of his first grandchild.

Life goes on, and that's good.  But things also change, and things eventually fall apart.  As we bid Aubrey the fondest of farewells and wish him many more joyful occasions during his years of retirement, the rest of us are left with the feeling that we may well have just witnessed the passing of a golden age of local studies in this county.

Dear readers, these are just two recollections occurring about eight years apart. The first followed my interview for the post of Archives repairer within the Leicester City Museums, in early September 1967. I was twenty-one and had just completed my apprenticeship with a small printing business in Belgrave.  (The proprietors expected me to seek work elsewhere.) During the course of my studies at the school of printing I had come into contact with a number of the staff of the County Record Office. They introduced me to archive conservation and book and document repair techniques. Even though I had a good idea of what the work entailed, I was very surprised to be appointed to the post in the archives department, and also the first person officially appointed to undertake the work for the City Museums service.

‘My name’s Chinnery – Chin to my colleagues. That’s what you can call me! And what do you answer to Mr Cochrane, William?’

‘Bill mostly’ I replied.

Having crossed Princess Rd., leaving New Walk museum by the back door, we entered a seedy looking three story red brick terrace house by its yellow front door. Looking back I could see the office girls in the museum following our progress with interest.

‘This used to be a brothel,’ exclaimed Chinnery as he entered. He withdrew the key and beckoned me in. A bespectacled middle aged man with bushy eyebrows and a peculiar limp, he was a product of Cambridge at an interesting time in its history.

‘The house has been fumigated, and redecorated as you can see, so there shouldn’t be any livestock creeping out of the woodwork,’ he exclaimed.

I should hope not, I thought.

Leading me into the front room he continued, ‘And this is the room you will occupy, What do you think of it?'

The north-east facing room, about thirteen by twelve, was simply furnished with a long chest of drawers topped with Formica and an inset glass panel. The walls, from which unions for gas lighting still protruded, were finished with emulsion. Elaborate coving skirted the ceiling which contained a large ornate rose at its centre and a single light bulb. A tall sash window, without curtains, looked directly onto the street.  

‘It will do for a start,’ I replied looking round at the fittings, ‘Who else works here? I had hoped to be working in the museum with the other technicians.’

‘Just you. Museum records are stored upstairs,’ he added. ‘You’ll find the doors locked.’ He looked at me quizzically. ‘Is there anything else you would like us to get you?’

‘Just me.’ My heart sank. ‘Do I get a telephone?’

‘A telephone, what do you want with a telephone?’ I could have told him, but I needed the job.

I wonder how he got that limp?  Where will I be ten years from now?

(A few years later the front room ceiling collapsed smothering everything with sour cow-hair plaster.)

A lot of water had flown under the bridge, so to speak, by the time of my next reminiscence. The year now 1975, had seen me move, a year earlier, to join two good colleagues, conservators Graham Bloodworth and Terence Farmer, and the rest of the merry band, at the County Record Office on New Walk, where we were to stay for the next eighteen years, a far cry from the terrace property I’d departed in Princess Rd. crumbling with dry rot.  

I knocked on the door. ‘Come,’ came the call from within.

‘Dr Parker,’ a short pause as I looked round the door, ‘I wonder, could I have a word please?’

I’d arrived at work by car and parked in my usual spot in the grounds next to the County Record Office - a splendid double fronted pebble-dashed house standing proudly in the sylvan setting of The Oval on the south side of New Walk.

‘By all means, Mr Cochrane, please come in.’

His office was on the first floor of the house, overlooking The Oval. My room was the next but one along the landing, reached by a grand wooden staircase from the entrance hall below.

I stepped, with a little trepidation, into Dr Parker’s room. Leslie Parker was a noticeably short man, smartly dressed in a suit, with swept dark hair over a balding pate. He had a strict formal manner, but for all that I found him a most likable character.

‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ I said, ‘but I think there may be something amiss with the tyres on your car.’

‘Tyres on my car, what do you mean - amiss?’

‘Spikes of wire are protruding from them,’ I replied, ‘You had better come and have a look’.

(These were the days when tyre fitters peddled remoulds and re-cuts. The woven steel belts in Dr Parker’s recently purchased tyres were disintegrating, the sharp ends protruding through the treads like needles in a pin cushion.)

During the course of the last forty-one years much has changed, not least the widespread realisation of the wealth of social historic information that can be accessed from record office collections, impacting on and benefiting enquirers, researchers and communities in many ways. Many staff and students have come and gone, adding their wealth of talents to the enrichment of the work of the office.  

And now my turn to depart draws near.  The intervening years have flown. Time to reflect how fortunate I’ve been to work with and meet so many warm and interesting people.    

At the end of August this year we shall lose two of our longest-serving members of staff. Neither, I suspect, are quite as well known to the visiting public as they deserve but their absence will assuredly be noticed. Their passing will undoubtedly be marked (more fittingly and fully) elsewhere in the Dustsheet but I am anxious also to have my say about two friends and colleagues of many, many years.

As Keeper of Archives I have worked very happily with Aubrey Stevenson, my opposite number overseeing the local studies empire, since the Record Office reopened in Wigston Magna in 1992. It is a co-operation that I have greatly valued and shall miss just as much. Now, Aubs does tend to fulminate a bit but which of us doesn’t at times? Moreover, every public servant has to let off steam occasionally and if I’ve had to listen to his expressions of frustration from time to time, he has done no less for me. It would probably come as a surprise, even to our colleagues, on how many matters Aubrey and I see eye to eye.

Aubrey can seem a bit of a fuss pot too – but one man’s fuss-pot is another’s efficient, punctilious and diligent worker. I have worked many a busy Wednesday evening and been glad of Aubrey’s tireless efficiency. Any muttering was a small price to pay for swiftly produced documents, carefully managed requisitions and the safe return of everything produced.

I have also long valued Aubrey’s willingness to assist with my own footling enquiries. How he must have dreaded my wandering into his office in search of “a small red book, the title of which I can’t quite recall, but which I saw three years ago on such and such a shelf”. Invariably, he would set aside his work and set off in search of what would turn out to be a fat blue tome, with a different title.

Alas, we shall not replace the knowledge that enabled such help – even if we duplicate the willingness.

Now, our other casualty is the Assistant Keeper (Conservation) – Bill Cochrane. I have known him some twenty-two years, since I started here. Another highly capable fellow is our Bill. He never fails to rise to any challenge of conservation or preservation. Present him with the most troublesome document; Bill will ponder and come up with a devilishly clever solution. Give him an idea, without any clue how it might be transformed into reality and it’ll be done.

I thought it would be nice to have a diorama of the battle of Trafalgar (it doesn’t matter why) – Bill did it. I had a vague sort of vision of life sized figures for another exhibition (a red-coat and an Irish rebel) and Bill produced two splendid fellows who still inhabit our conservation store; eerily catching our eye and making many of us jump to this day.

Over the years Bill must have saved the local taxpayer his weight in gold. I couldn’t begin to count the number of machines he has restored to working order, some of them with ingenious creations and adaptations of spare-parts that may even have been better than the original. It has always been a pleasure to work on any project with Bill, to see him solving problems and overcoming the apparently insuperable with his customary neatness and imagination.

Quite possibly by the time this appears in our summer Dustsheet both these gentlemen will have gone. Both officially redundant (though a less accurate description of either I cannot imagine) and both sorely missed. I can only hope that I found the chance, before they went, of telling them how much I valued them as colleagues.

Perhaps we shall entice them back as volunteers!

The brief and remarkably bloodless war of 1913 is largely forgotten now, overshadowed no doubt by that longer, far more terrible conflict which began the following year. However, for a few days in September 1913, the citizens of Leicestershire and Rutland, and their neighbouring counties, found themselves at war. Dusty columns of troops marched and counter-marched, artillery fire echoed across the fields and the drone of aircraft was heard overhead.

Of course in those days Leicestershire was part of Whiteland, whose capital was Nuneaton: seat of government, economic hub and main arsenal. Whiteland had long been on bad terms with Greenland to the north, across the Green River (or Tees as we now call it). In 1913 however, the threat came from Brownland, to the south. Brownland had grown increasingly jealous of Whiteland’s prosperity and entered into a secret alliance with Greenland. Matters came to a head on 20 September 1913, when the Greens and Browns seized upon a minor incident to declare war upon the unsuspecting Whitelanders.

I suppose we should explain here that all the troops involved were actually British – Regulars and Territorials – and that the impending bloodbath (or dust-bath at the very least) was the product of careful planning for the Army Exercise of 1913. Indeed, the only difference between these warring factions was that the Whitelanders were to wear a white band around their hats. Such, at least, were the guidelines issued as the ‘General Idea’ and ‘Special Idea’, preparatory to the Exercise (or war).

A glimpse of the scale of the exercise can be had from the maps prepared especially for it. We are fortunate enough to have copies of both the Northern and Southern Sheets [DE7321/21-22]. The boundary of the war itself is shown, as a broad pink line running, on its northern edge, through Sharnford, Broughton Astley, Kilby, Wistow, Kibworth, and on through the Langtons to Weston by Welland. Also marked are the areas out of bounds – such as Woburn Park, or one estate beside Leighton Buzzard where the troops were restricted to roads and no firing was allowed. The records of the Royal Leicestershire Regiment deposited here also include copies of the ‘Narrative of Operations’, which (with references to the maps) outline the activities of both sides [22D63/127-8]. Perhaps they were issued to Territorial officers observing the fighting?

In fact the ‘war’ was a departure from the usual army manoeuvres. The scale was far larger, the Brownland army representing what the Leicester Daily Post advised its readers was “one main army (the largest that has ever yet mustered in this country in times of peace), massed under one supreme commander, equipped at war strength, as an expeditional [sic] force for immediate active service in any hostile country.” To give Sir John French, who commanded Brownland’s forces (just as he was to command the British Expeditionary Force in August 1914) experience of the most extensive command possible, every available regular soldier was to serve together against Whiteland. The ‘Whites’ army was a skeleton force, largely made up from Territorials.

Although the Leicestershire Regiment’’s regular battalions were absent (in India and Ireland), the county's Territorials were much in evidence. Therefore the Whiteland forces included not only the Leicestershire Yeomanry and Leicestershire Royal Horse Artillery, but also the local Royal Army Medical Corps and Army Service Corps detachments of the North Midland Mounted Brigade. A party of eleven officers of the Leicestershire Regiment’s two Territorial battalions was also present to observe the Exercise.

On the first day of the war, the representatives of the Leicester Daily Post and Mercury motored deep into the ‘war-zone’. Their one hundred and ten mile foray down Watling Street took them through skirmishing Household Cavalry and Scots Greys, past the camp of the Leicestershire Yeomanry at Spratton and as far south as Newport Pagnell. They returned with tales of “mile after mile of the khaki-clad troops, heavily-laden wagons, and guns…with practically no break, troops and transports occupied three hours and a half passing through Newport Pagnell”.

The troops “each soldier carrying a weight something like 70lbs beside his rifle – and marching under the hot rays of a September sun” were clearly finding the work hard, and already there had been casualties; a horse contractor’s man kicked to death by an officer’s mount and a little girl knocked down by an army motor-cyclist.

Mere troop movements, especially of ‘our boys’, were doubtless followed with interest, but the imagination of most observers seems to have been captured by the aviators of the White and Brown armies. Dominance in the air was clearly with the former, as the ‘General Idea’ recorded: “Whiteland has a great superiority in aircraft of all types”.

The Whiteland Order of Battle included no fewer than three squadrons of aeroplanes, drawn from the Royal Flying Corps’ Military and Naval Wings. Moreover, on 22 September, His Majesty’s Airship Delta made an early start and penetrated into Brownland as far as Marlow. A B.E. biplane and Bleriot monoplane were scrambled in opposition, but the Delta’s crew drove them off with ease. Excitement was heightened further when, on the first day, a Whiteland B.E. biplane crashed near Lilbourne, close to the county boundary. A full account appeared in the Mercury, whose reporter was an eye-witness. It was the shape of things to come.

The following day, the advance of the Brownland army continued. Despite stubborn resistance from the Whitelanders, their camp at Easton Neston was captured and Towcester fell to the invaders. The Leicestershire Royal Horse Artillery battery was in the thick of the fight, being judged by umpires to have lost one of their gun teams to enemy fire. Aeroplanes were much in evidence again and there were claims from the Brownland forces that a hostile airship was brought down by rifle and artillery fire. The chapter of accidents also continued to grow, as the car carrying the King and Queen, who had come to tour the battlefield, collided with a Brownland motor wagon.

The fighting withdrawal of the Whitelanders continued the next day. The Leicestershire artillery continued to win plaudits from their full-time comrades but the Leicestershire Yeomanry experienced the fate of many in a retreat and were captured by the 2^nd Dragoon Guards. They did receive a consoling message from the King, who rode past them, expressing approval of their appearance and sympathy at their plight.

The war, which was creeping ever nearer to the Leicestershire border, came to an end at about ten o’clock on Friday, 26 September. The Whiteland forces had made a stand on Sharman’s Hill, south of Daventry (and a mere nineteen miles short of Lutterworth) but, having been driven from their entrenchments, it was agreed that a Brownland victory was inescapable.

Leicestershire was given the consolation (if avoiding an invading army requires consolation) of an unexpected visit by a Whiteland aeroplane. A biplane, piloted by a Mr R O Merricks, lost its way and touched down in a field beside the Leicester Isolation Hospital to ask for directions. As the Leicester Daily Post reported: “After oiling up, he made a circuit of the field in order to face the wind, and then gracefully rose, and heading due south, was soon out of sight…Although on the ground only fifteen minutes, a considerable crowd collected, and the aviator’s departure was watched with keen interest.” Almost certainly it was the first aeroplane any of the witnesses had seen close-up. Cosby experienced similar excitement when two ’planes passed low over the village, also travelling in the direction of Rugby.

The war may have been over but lessons were still to be learned. A conference was convened at the depot in Weedon and for some days the newspapers were full of comments on “the lessons taught”, “the aeroplane in peace and war” and rather less perspicaciously “the value of the cycle corps”. Despite a report of the return of the Leicester Royal Horse Artillery in high spirits and with the commendation of their umpire, Major Doyle, ringing in their ears (“for their smartness in obeying commands and in exercising their duties” according to the Leicester Daily Post) there were recriminations, following a rumour of complaints about shortages of rations. The same ’paper published an explosion from an ‘Old Warrior’ astounded that one of the Territorials should reject good food because of “so much pepper that you could hardly taste it…No doubt this poor youth missed his bottle of milk…and will he please explain what he means by saying the rations were half-a-dozen biscuits and a lump of cheese?...if our underfed youth expected a commercial six-course dinner twice daily he reckoned without a thought of being on imaginary warfare. But we had luxuries which we should never have on real service. I sincerely hope that in time our poor youth may have a little army experience.”

Alas, within the year he was to have more than enough.

Glenis Burton of Nottingham asks :

I am searching for anyone who may have known my mother Private Elsie Florence Swift.  She would have been called "Elsie" and came from Nottingham.  She was in the A.T.S. from early 1941 until 1944.  She was 19 yrs old when she enlisted and worked as a Cook.  Her last post was in South Wigston from 29th October 1943 to 5th April 1944.  Previous to that she was in various places around the country but had a lengthy time in East Lancashire in Preston and Clitheroe.

I would like to know anything related to the daily happenings and social life whilst serving in the A.T.S. such as friendships, happy social times and dances (I was told by someone that special transport was made available for dances with British and American Forces).  Please could you contact me if you were my mother's friend or knew of her?  I will  be very happy to hear from you!

Please contact the Editor if you are able to help.

While working on my latest project, I came across the following; Needless Shenton married Charlotte Garner at Barrow upon Soar on 22 November 1835.  What an apt name for a man you ladies may think. But don't despair lads!  Richard Doman married Mary Hartless at Coleoreton on 06 February 1815.

In the mid 1970's we had a heat wave where we struggled to keep cool and work at the same time, but, did this happen years ago?  Whilst looking up information for an enquiry I came across an entry in a parish register (DE 667/5) of All Saints Loughborough.  The details are as follows :

'On Wednesday July 13th this year 1808.  The heat was so intense that in consequence thereof many people died; especially they that were at work in the Hayfields also a great number of horses particularly coach horses drawing stage coaches.  The thermometer as high as 92.'

People and animals struggled to survive the heat in those days with hardly any protection against the strong sun.  People tried to wear a head covering of some kind, and animals, especially horses, struggled to keep cool when travelling a long distance along dusty tracks.

Today we have sun cream, fans in our homes and workplaces, and people look after their animals by protecting them with sun cream and keeping them out of the strong sun when possible.

Let's not grumble at the English weather.  Looking at the above extract, people complained years ago too!

These recipes are taken from the Illustrated Chronicle 1931:

6 large stewed prunes, 1 tablespoonful chutney, 3 rashers bacon, juice of half a lemon.

Remove stones from prunes and fill with chutney. Cut off bacon rind and wrap half a rasher round each prune. Stick a skewer through and place them in a fireproof dish. Squeeze lemon juice over them and bake for about 10 minutes. Serve very hot.

Place a layer of thinly sliced cold potatoes in a pie dish, then a layer of sliced tomatoes. Next add a little minced onion and grated cheese. Sprinkle with pepper and salt and pour over a little white sauce.

Repeat the layers until the dish is full. Sprinkle the top generously with cheese and bake in a moderate oven until a nice golden brown.

Any kind of cold roast meat can be used. Cut it into thick slices with an equal quantity of cold fat bacon and season well with pounded ginger, salt and pepper.

Cut several cooking apples into quarters, remove their cores, but do not peel them. Put the above ingredients into a pie dish in alternate layers, and pour in half a pint of ale. Cover with a nice dripping crust and brush it over with beaten white of egg. Bake in a moderate oven for about an hour. Serve either hot or cold.

This is a most attractive pudding and also as delicious as it looks.

Cream 2oz butter with 2oz sugar, and a pinch of salt. Beat 2 small eggs or 1 large one thoroughly, sift 6oz self-raising flour and lightly mix all together. Cut into small dice 1oz each of citron peel, crystallised cherries, ginger and pineapple. Decorate a buttered mould with some of these, then stir the rest into the mixture before pouring it into the mould. Cover with greaseproof paper and steam for 1½ hours.

One hesitates to consider that Thurcaston knew a better cure for the bite of a mad dog than Nailstone (see 'Dustsheet' No. 38 p.15), but I do feel that the receipt "brought from Tonquin by George Cobb, Baronet" is somewhat exacting in its ingredients (native AND factitious Cinnabar?) and furthermore somewhat imprecise in the dosages!

The following appears on an endpaper of the churchwardens Book for Thurcaston cum Cropston [DE 1416/119], in the hand of Robert Alfounder who was Rector 1668-1701 :

"For the biting of a mad dog
Take of London treacle, rue, garlick, raspt pewter, of each 4 ounces, boyl them
In a vessel close stopt in a pot of ale for 2 hours
Then starin it and give it
To a man 9 spoonfuls
To a child less, according to its bignesse
To a large beast 18 or 20 spoonfuls
To a dog 10 or 12 spoonfuls
This must be taken for 9 days together
If there be a wound or great sore apply the dregs of it to the wound
This medicine must be made by boylng thus.  Put it right where you make your
Medicines into a kettle of water and go hang the kettle over the fire and let it
Boyle with that vessel for 2 hours

However, should the bite be from a viper :

"Salad oyl applied warm to ye wound is an effective cure for ye bit of a viper"

Rev. Alfounder also has a recipe "For any ache" :

For any ache
Get a pint of red rose water and a penny white loaf.  Cut of the top and the
Botome and cut a part of the middle.  Tost it brown.  Put this tost to the pint of
Rose waterin a pewter diah before the fire.  Turn it in the water and strain it
with the best loaf sugar and when the fitt begins to come eat all the tost, if you
Can, go to bed and sweat and if yoube dry, drink good ale and pepper."

He truly cared for his parishioners, body and soul!

We are grateful to Eric Jenkins who has recounted the following daring gaol break :

[Adapted from The Northampton Mercury, 24th August 1867, page 8.]

A female ward in the precincts of the Leicester Borough Gaol was under construction.  There was a need to demolish a portion of the boundary wall.  At eight o'clock on the morning of Monday, 19th August, 1867, the workmen were eating their breakfast.  John M'Carty, aged 25, was undergoing seven years penal servitude for a midnight jewel robbery in May 1867.  He had served a previous term for sacrilege.  He was exercising with other convicts in the parade ground, well-guarded by two warders.  Suddenly he threw his prison cap down, and leaped over a low wall into the kitchen area.  There he took off his coat and waistcoat, ran over planks and building refuse, to an angle of the boundary wall where building work had recently been done.  He scaled the projecting bricks, not easy, to a height of fifteen feet.  From six feet above the street, he dropped down, and ran through alley-ways.  The warders gave the alarm by whistle.  (They could not leave the other prisoners they were supervising).

Detective Sergeant James Hickenbottom and Police Sergeant Graves went after M'Carty along the canal to Aylestone, Blaby Wharf and Kilby Bridge.  They were about half an hour behind him.  At Fleckney, they went along the tow-path, and saw him coming up at a quick walk.  He saw them, and jumped into the canal.  He crossed and went into a cornfield on the opposite side.  The officers crossed over, and there was a pursuit.  He darted into the canal again, re-crossed to the tow-path, and went into a bean field where he hid.  Eventually he was discovered almost hidden by briars and weeds.  He surrendered.  On the return journey to Leicester, he made another unsuccessful escape attempt.  He told the two officers that his intention was to hide in ditches at Fleckney for several days, and then go to Northampton.  He was safely lodged back in the Leicester Gaol.

Intrigued by this story, we asked Hannah Thomas who has been working as a volunteer here during the summer, to look at local newspaper accounts and see if any further details were supplied. This is the result of her research:

Extracted from : The Leicester Journal, 23 August 1867 p 5

M’Carty had been convicted at the Borough Sessions in May and sentenced to seven years penal servitude for a raid on a jewellery shop in Campbell Street [only the Leicester Chronicle recorded the name of the jeweller – a Mr Garratt].

Having dropped into Freeschool Lane, M’Carty made a rapid escape , although he was observed by a boy as he threw an object in to the garden of Mr Lankester. At Burgess Street, he asked for directions North, which he apparently misunderstood, as he found himself in Vine Street and overheard people discussing his escape.

When the Police pursued M’Carty down the canal, they found that they were at least a half hour behind and decided to take a short cut to Fleckney. Sighting their prey as he walked up the towpath – now lacking his hat,coat and waistcoat, Sergeant Greaves [sic] quickly concealed himself behind a canal bridge. The pursuit through the fields described in the Northampton Mercury concluded sadly for M’Carty, when the convict tried to conceal himself in a ditch which was crossed by the track down which the Police were running. When Detective Hickinbottom attempted to leap the ditch he appears to have landed upon the hapless M’Carty under a pile of brambles and weeds. He was covered with mud,wet to the skin and in a very exhausted condition. Not surprisingly, he surrendered and was returned to Leicester Gaol by 4.30 that afternoon.

When the escape took place, the governor of the Prison, Mr Marshall, had been on ‘leave of absence’ and was in Liverpool on his way back from the Isle of Man. Having received a telegram informing him that a convict was ‘at large’, he hastened back to Leicester by the earliest train .

Extracted from : The Leicester Advertiser, 24^th August 1867 p5

The object which M’Carty had thrown in to the garden was a ‘formidable’ knife which he had been using in the prison for mat making. The prisoner was not charged with any offence following the escape because he had not caused any damage to the building. He had however expressed an intention to use the knife to attack anyone who attempted to stop him before he was outside the walls. He had sustained a slight injury to his back during the escape, probably when Detective Hickinbottom accidentally jumped on to the bank of the ditch in which M’Carty was concealed.

The prisoner had several aliases and had previously been convicted  for breaking in to Burton Lazars church and stealing two surplices. He was then apparently, connected with an ‘expert gang of thieves in London’ and was arrested with a woman ‘who passed as his wife’. She was later freed and became a domestic servant in Leicester ‘thanks to the intercession of a benevolent gentleman’.  She did not remain in the position long before absconding with a bundle of linens.

M’Carty  had already served a sentence in the county prison and  with associates from London, including the woman, had been charged with stealing a horse and cart from London by hiring it and then selling it on to an associate.  He also boasted of having been in several other gaols…

Poor M’Carty doesn’t seem to have been a very expert thief but perhaps it suited the papers to make him seem as black as possible. It is certainly interesting to note the different contents of the various reports. Thank you once again to Eric Jenkins and Hannah Thomas for highlighting this interesting incident. -Ed

Not, I assure you, his Calvin Kleins!

Researching the history of the Leicestershire parish of Thurcaston cum Cropston (within Charnwood) at the ROLLR has been singularly rewarding and may I here say in passing, a big thank you for the patience of all those who have fetched documents time and again from the inner recesses.

One of the many joys has been the Churchwardens’ Account book (ref. DE 1416/119) in which the most minute details of 17^th century parish life are preserved like flies in amber. I can , for example tell you the names of the boys who went collecting the hedgehogs that were prepared for the dinner when the Bishop’s visitor came; they received 2 or 4 pennies depending on size -  of the hedgehogs, not the boys!

But I was puzzled by a long series of entries , headed “Briefs”, dating from 1670 to 1706. I had not met such items before. Reference books gave only a few words to the subject, so recourse was had to Google. Surprisingly there was only a single entry (in the above sense) and this to an article by Cornelius Walford, Barrister-at-Law,  in the Transactions of the Royal Historical Society Vol. 10, 1882 pp. 1-74. By now even more curious, I went to the British Library and spent a delightful afternoon reading  one of the copies of the article, privately reprinted at the author’s expense that he had in fact inscribed and given to his son (BL Shelfmark 3477.3313).

But first, a taster of  the details in the Thurcaston records (at this date the parish included not only “Crapston” but also Anst(e)y):

January 1670 for redeeming English captives and slaves under the Turke
Thurcaston 18s 3d (Rector 10s…..Servants 2d)
Cropston  6s 6d
Ansty 12s 10d
October 31^st 1673 for the fire which began in the Throne Royal
Thurcaston 4s
Cropston  1s 11d
February 1673 for the burning at St. Katherine   £1-11s-8d
13^th December 1674 for Benenden in Kent  2s.
April 26th 1676 for Northampton   
Thurcaston 16s.11d
Crapston 14s 6d
March 11^th 1676 for the town of Eaton in Buckinghamshire 1s.09d
15^th March 1677 for Towcester in Northamptonshire2s
19 April 1677 for the town of Cottenham in Cambridgeshire  5s
September 9^th 1677 for Southwark
Thurcaston 8s 8d
Crapston 3s d
July 21 1678 for Wem in Shropshire  3s 10d
28^th July 1678 for Pattingham in Staffordshire  2s 4d
4^th August 1678 for Uffingham in Lincolnshire  2s 2d

“1679. Collected towards the building of St. Pauls Church
Given by Robt Alfounder Rr. Eccle.  £1-00s-00d
Given by the inhabitants of Thurcaston £ 0-01s-11d
Given by Crapston inhabitants£ 0-01s-02d
Given by Ansty inhabitants£ 0-03s-11d
                                            ________
                                        £ 1-06s-11d
This was paid to Mr Stevens at the White Lyon in Leicester June 17^th 1679 in the presence of Mr. Gorse, Minister of Swepston
                                          Robert Alfounder”

I was most curious to know what possible interest the inhabitants of this small parish might have had in delivering captives and slaves from the Turks  - and indeed in the building of St. Paul’s Church – but also, how did they get to know about these situations, and how did the money collected reach the intended beneficiaries?

Mr. Walford’s interest had similarly been aroused when a friend had transcribed lists much like the one above, from parish records at Clent in Staffordshire, so in the best tradition of the late Victorian amateur historian, he researched and then published his findings. I share some of the information he gives, with apologies to those of you who know this already.

The earliest of the genre date from the start of the 13^th century. Originally called ‘breves’ (i.e. ‘shorts’ – which they most certainly were not) they were in the style of Papal Briefs. The early ones were mainly for the relief of prominent noblemen injured in wars or taken for ransom, but in 1423 a Brief was circulated for the repair of Salisbury Cathedral. Disputes inevitably arose between the Church and the City of London over who had authority to issue Briefs and it was only in 1625 that the sole prerogative was assumed by the Crown and controlled procedures were set in place.

In the first place, you took your petition for money to the local Quarter Sessions and if the appeal was found worthy there, a certificate was given that was remitted to the Crown. A King’s Brief giving the details of the event (fire, loss at sea, repair of a church etc.) was then printed and circulated – in theory to every parish. Inevitably, forged briefs circulated widely, despite a Proclamation in 1633 forbidding any collection without warrant or licence under the Great Seal. On 30^th June 1661, Pepys wrote: “To church where we observe the trade of briefs is come now up so constant a course every Sunday that we resolve to give no more to them.”

Perhaps this is a place to list some more of the Thurcaston Briefs, the regularity of which caused the Rector , Rev. Robert Alfounder, to record a complaint in the Churchwarden’s Book that though there had been 10 Briefs between 1670 and 1680, this had increased to 46 between 1680 and 1689! Over the two decades, in addition to the causes mentioned above, the parish had given money for

•  The redemption of captives in Algiers (1680, £1-10-09d)
•  The protestants of Poland (1681, 3s/10 ½ d)
•  The fire in Channel Row in Westminster (1684, 2s/8d)
•  The poor Protestants of France (1684, £1-9-8d: 1688, 17s/2d: 1694, 10s/9d)
•  The redemption of Mr. Waterhouse, a Minister, now a slave in Old Galley (1688)
•  The earthquake and inundation in Yorkshire (1688)
•  The relief of poor Protestants out of Ireland (1689, £2-6-0d: 1690, 9s)
•  For the Grisons that are driven out of their country and for some French refugees that are in Switzerland (1699, £1- 0-4d)
•  For the redemption of slaves in Machaness [sic] in the Kingdom of Fez and Morocco (1700, 10s/10½d)
•  For distressed Protestants of Orange (1704, £1-11-1¼ d)
•  For the widows and orphans of those seamen who perished in the dreadful storm on 26 November last (1704, 19s)

and of course to many other appeals relating especially to the loss by fire or the repair of churches.

To avoid the proliferation of spurious Briefs, Parliament decreed in 1703 that all should be printed by the Queen’s printers, that any Brief received in the parish should be read out in extenso before the sermon within two months of receipt, and that Churchwardens should endorse the back of the Brief with the amount collected and remit this to the ‘undertaker’, who was to deposit them with the Court of Chancery.  For this reason, few actual Briefs find their way to Record Offices, despite the fact that the Queen’s/King’s printers produced in the order of 11,000 copies of each.

But there is always a way for things to go wrong! The ‘undertakers’ of the later years were paid for doing the job and when it became common knowledge that sometimes more than a quarter of the money collected was disappearing in ‘expenses’, letters began to appear in the Gentleman’s Magazine in the 1780s, suggesting that the cost of an advertisement in a newspaper was less than the cost of circulating Briefs and remitting the monies collected. After all, insurance against capture for ransom had been available in London and other European cities by 1700, and insurance against fire had been available from around 1667. People began to question the need for Briefs and they were finally abolished by Act of Parliament in 1828.

To end with a story that directly concerns Thurcaston there is a fascinating account in the middle of the Churchwarden’s accounts concerning the King’s Briefs that illustrates how the parish dealt with a local disaster in 1686. Using the pattern of the Briefs – though it was in fact a ‘Subscription’ – an appeal was sent to all the surrounding towns and villages on behalf of Eustace Wade. The family was well established in the parish where his father had been Parish Clerk since 1641, a post that Eustace himself would occupy from 1690 to 1721. The entry starts:

“The house wherein Eustace Wade lived (formerly John Fletcher lived) was burnt down January 1^st 1686, being Saturday about 5 o’clock at night the fire began. And we the Minister,  and inhabitants in thankfulness to God for sparing us and in commiseration of the poor man do give as followeth…”

The Rector gave £1, the yeoman farmers each gave 3s or 5s, and it seems that every man and woman contributed something, even if only 2d . All are listed, together with the amount they gave. Collections were taken in Thurcaston, Cropston and Anstey and in addition the Rector must have visited all those of his acquaintance  to ask for donations. Those he persuaded to contribute included: The Earl of Stamford 10s, William Taylor of Beaumont Leas 5s, Mr. Babington 2s.6d, Mrs Babington 1s, William Babington 1s (of Rothley Temple), Jane Billers 1s, Elizabeth Billers 1s, the Mayor of Leicester 6d, and Mr. Wright, Recorder of Leicester 5s (Nathan Wright, born in Thurcaston, who was appointed Keeper of the Great Seal of England in 1700).

Collections were also taken up in the following villages: Swithland, Woodhouse, Maplewell, Birstall, Barrow, Mountsorrel, Quorn, Sileby, Cossington, Glenfield, Kirby, Ratby, Groby, Loughborough, Newtown Linford, Belgrave, Thurmaston, Tuffley, Syston, Rearsby, Queniborough, Barkby, Ratcliffe, Thrussington, Barkby, Barkby Thorpe, Keem, and Beeby; and in the Leicester parishes of St. Margarets, St. Marys, St. Nicholas, St. Martins, and All Hallows.

As a result, Rev. Alfounder handed over £4-7-9d and a further 16s were handed personally to Eustace by individual villagers.

So even if the parish baulked at being generous over some of the King’s Briefs, they knew how to be generous when the disaster was near to home; “in thankfulness to God for sparing us”.

Two scrapbooks belonging to a Leicester architect, Thomas Henry Fosbrooke, have been resting peacefully in the Leicestershire Collection at the Record Office since his death in 1925. The content of this remarkable pictorial collection of substantial architectural interest is currently being revealed.

As a volunteer I took on the task of indexing the scrapbooks in November 2007, anticipating completion in about 3 months or so. But as the saying goes about best laid plans, work continues now several months later as the potential value of this collection begins to come to light. Here, in 290 pages, lies a wealth of material reflecting the city and county’s architectural heritage, including plans, drawings, sketches, engravings and photographs of local buildings and items reflecting the compiler’s archaeological interests. Some of the contents can be found elsewhere (Fosbrooke copied from other sources), but his original sketches, sometimes directly onto the page, must be unique.

Thomas Fosbrooke, the second son of Leonard Fosbrooke of Ravenstone Hall, practised as an architect in Leicester from the 1880’s to the early 1920’s, working closely with well known architects such as Isaac Barradale and William Millican before he set up in practice with Waller Bedingfield. Fosbrooke was a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries and member of the Leicestershire Architectural & Archaeological Society, and is best remembered for his restoration work on the Old Town Hall in Leicester (now the Guildhall) completed in 1926 after his death, and the conservation of Ashby-de-la-Zouch Castle. His detailed drawings for both of these projects are reproduced in the Scrapbooks, and books were published at the time. As a tribute to his work, a bookcase was designed and dedicated to him by the office of “Fosbrooke and Bedingfield” and placed in the library in the Old Town Hall. It still stands there, bearing his name and dates of birth and death, in the room now belonging to the Leicestershire Archaeological & Historical Society.

Fosbrooke maintained a keen interest in old Leicester, especially the Church of St Mary de Castro, reflected in the Scrapbooks by detailed measured drawings and a number of exterior and interior sketches, including the sedilia and Norman piscina. Of particular note are his hand coloured drawings of tiles found under the lino, his measured drawing of the weathervane (perhaps some building work on the steeple enabled access?) and a copy of a newscutting from the “Leicester Advertiser” putting forward evidence of Geoffrey Chaucer’s marriage in the church. Also of interest are copies of architectural drawings of the church produced by William Bidlake, who won 2^nd prize in the RIBA Silver Medal Competition in 1883 when he was working for James Tait in Leicester

Items depicting Leicester Castle include Fosbrooke’s own drawings of the Great Hall (restored) and the Castle Gatehouse. There are copies of sketches of street scenes, some by the artist John Fulleylove, and a particularly fine drawing of a house in St Nicholas Street where John Bunyan once lodged, copied by Fosbrooke from an original by Albert Herbert. Local inns and other businesses also feature, not surprisingly the Blue Boar, including an illustration of the interior of the principal chamber reproduced from the

“Gentleman’s Magazine” of July 1837. Possibly more difficult to track down elsewhere are drawings of shops in the Market Place, one belonging to a bookseller, namely J.G.Brown,Jnr., before it was demolished in 1839 and a plan of “no.61” (rather indistinct but nevertheless of interest) where Miss Louisa Crane operated as cook and confectioner. Measured drawings of the Jewry Wall may also be hard to come by, and archaeologists in particular may be interested to know that one produced by Amos Hall sits within these pages.

The county of Leicestershire is also well represented by drawings and sketches of a number of churches and other religious buildings, including copies of old engravings of Grace Dieu Nunnery and Ulverscroft Priory, measured drawings of Ingarsby Old Priory and Fosbrooke’s plans of Rothley Temple, including the interior of the chapel at the time of the Knights Templars.  Large country houses are also extensively covered including Ragdale Old Hall, Desford Manor House, Potters Marston Hall and New House Grange at Sheepy Magna with detailed drawings of the Tithe Barn. Fosbrooke’s sketch of the dovecote at Ravenstone Hall before demolition is of particular interest.

The unusual, unique and sometimes “quirky” did not escape Fosbrooke’s eye. Here you will find his drawings of Sir Joseph Danvers’ tomb in Swithland churchyard complete with the detail of inscriptions and carvings. It is interesting to note that Fosbrooke was not aware why one half of the grave was constructed inside the churchyard and the other half on Sir Joseph’s land outside the wall. Readers may wish to investigate! Original drawings of ancient stones at Asfordby and Kirby Bellars can also be found, and a tracing of a 16^th century mural depicting a sporting scene in Hoby church. Also featured are a gibbet post, a lock up and the unusual finger stocks in Ashby-de-la-Zouch Church.  A photograph of six cobblestones in the pavement near the Technical School in Leicester shows where the decree abolishing the “Whipping Toms” was read.  

The very personal nature of a scrapbook tells a lot about the compiler’s attributes and personality as well as their interests.  Fosbrooke’s drawings provide evidence of a competent architectural draughtsman, who not only appreciated the design and local significance of buildings and the need to preserve them, but also looked towards future developments, such as plans for extensions and alterations to the Museums and Art Gallery in New Walk. He appeared to maintain a keen interest in the work of students apprenticed to local architects, adding copies to the Scrapbooks of their drawings, many of which were awarded prizes in an annual competition run by the Leicester & Leicestershire Society of Architects. Fosbrooke’s appreciation of fine detail is reflected particularly in copies of measured drawings of columns, cornices and wrought iron gates, including those at Quenby Hall and Loddington Hall.  

Indexing of the Scrapbooks is well advanced and continues to be refined as more information is found. The “small print” is still being examined to identify the architects, artists, engravers, photographers and printers represented. A check of the Building Plans Database currently being compiled (see The Dustsheet, Spring 2008) has helped to add to information already gathered. Fosbrooke very helpfully included some references to his sources, particularly the Annual Reports of the Leicester & Leicestershire Society of Architects (1890’s to early 1920’s), local newspapers and national journals such as “The Builder”. Many names not listed in the Leicestershire Collection’s index and catalogue are being identified.

What appeared to be a straightforward indexing project has become a much larger task as the value of the Scrapbooks is becoming clear. Here lies material not only of potential use to architectural students and practitioners, but also to local historians, researchers and anyone with an interest in the local heritage. The unstructured arrangement has added considerably to the enjoyment and challenge of indexing this collection, never knowing what was still to be uncovered and trying “not to peep” before each page was turned. But the need to tread carefully seems appropriate on what is, after all, very personal territory.

Work is now underway in preparing for an exhibition in October which will celebrate the records of the Archdeaconry of Leicester. The (fairly tenuous) excuse for this is the 150^th anniversary of the legislation which finally brought the jurisdiction of the church courts over matrimonial matters and the making of wills, to an end. With the setting up of secular Probate Registries and the new Court for Divorce and Matrimonial Causes in 1858, the ancient role of the ecclesiastical court, which had existed at least since the tenth century, was finally surrendered. Fortunately for the local and family historian, there was left behind a wealth of historical documents which is still largely untapped…. This exhibition will seek to highlight some of the riches

In the case of the Archdeaconry of Leicester, the earliest court records survive from 1522, although the earliest will to survive dates from as early as 1495. Whereas the interest and value of the wills is clear to all, the church court records are rather less accessible. Early documents are not only in Latin, but in an arcane and almost indecipherable form of abbreviation which would defeat all but the most hardy of historians. Later documents, whilst at least in English, are not indexed and as a result, much of the fascinating material is neglected.

Since Medieval times, it had been the role of the church court to deal with crimes of a moral interpretation. Whilst theft or bodily harm was handled by the civil courts, cases of moral defamation or slander, sexual misconduct, and disputes over tithes, nullity of marriage or wills were the province of the church court. The main form of punishment in these courts was excommunication although the payment of costs could seem fairly punitive in itself. For most of the transgressors and those who had failed to pay costs or appear in court, there was a form of lesser excommunication which involved exclusion from church and being unable to be presented to a benefice, act as a lawyer, witness or executor of a will until formally absolved. Christian burial could also be refused. A form of greater excommunication also existed which was rather more serious since the unhappy transgressor was thereby excluded from the company of all Christians and his or her will was rendered invalid. A final sanction which empowered the court to instruct local magistrates to detain an individual who had stood excommunicate for a period exceeding 40 days, appears to have been rarely used. It was also possible for financial cases involving tithes or damages to be transferred to the civil courts and in these cases all further action in the church courts ceased. In practice, however, the public shame and the cost of employing church officials to take the business through the relevant court seems to have been burden enough and many of the court cases seem to finish inconclusively, presumably because the case was settled out of court.

Any such difficulties and occasional frustrations, are far outweighed by the intrinsic interest of the court records left behind. The often personal nature of the quarrels and the insight they afford in to the daily life of ordinary citizens, contribute to a fascinating overview of  Leicestershire people and their morals (or lack of them). The defamation cases are particularly entertaining. It is easy, for instance to picture the scene in Leicester outside the Hotel Inn on a Summer’s evening in 1812, when William Judd of Dunton Basset, having taken, presumably, a little too much liquid refreshment, began casting aspersions about Mrs Sophia Roberts, the wife of the innkeeper and her relationship with Francis Brown. Witness statements testified to the unimpeachable character of Francis Brown and poor Judd ended up having to say a penance in St Mary de Castro. Worse still, he also suffered excommunication, for failing to pay his court costs…

Interestingly, most of the defamation cases seem to involve criticism of women’s morals and by far the commonest insult seems to have been to call a woman a whore. It would be intriguing to know more about the case brought by Elizabeth Brewitt, the wife of George Brewitt, a labourer of Bottesford against Levi Robinson, a farmer of the same parish. Levi certainly acknowledged that he was wrong to exclaim to Elizabeth ‘Damn you for an old bitch and a whore’ in the public street on Friday 11^th August 1797 and even offered a guinea in recompense but when Elizabeth rejected the apology and asked for 20 guineas, the situation became more complicated. It was the ensuing campaign in support of Levi, which resulted in the court receiving a petition from ten [all male] ‘principal inhabitants’ of Bottesford which declared Elizabeth Brewet [sic] ‘ to be a bad woman that makes mischief her study and a terror to the parish’. John Thornton also wrote to the court with some concern : ‘I must forwarn you that Elizabeth is not of good character’. It would be nice to know who really was the victim in this case.

Besides the scandal, there is much pathos too. When Ann Bradford of Claybrooke Magna gave birth to an illegitimate son in May 1784, she was summoned to appear at the church court in St. Martin’s, Leicester to answer to the crime of ‘fornication’ or sexual relations outside marriage. A note from the overseer of the poor explained that she was too ill to attend ‘without danger to her life and being poor [she] has nothing to defray the expenses’. In the end, on 8^th August 1784, Ann made due penance at morning service in Claybrooke Church and confessed her sin, dressed in the customary white sheet. The father of the child, Francis Causer, a wheelwright, also made penance in the same way at an evening service, although in his case, no mention was made of the child. Francis seems to have exacted his own form of revenge on the churchwarden who reported the couple, when, a year later he brought a case against William Sawbridge for neglect of the churchyard, failing to report two illegitimate births and even calling Sunday ‘the Devil’s holiday’. Never a quiet moment in Claybrooke, it seems…

Unruly youths seem to have been a problem in Stoney Stanton, even in the eighteenth century. In June 1775, the curate there brought a case against William Hackett, a servant for playing football in the churchyard. When told to stop, William resorted to ringing the church bells for several days on end and after surrendering the keys to the belfry, continued his private war with the curate by procuring a false key. This is typical of the wealth of human stories to be found in the court records of the Archdeaconry.

I would like to go on to tell you about the sad case of John Tebbatt of Glooston who was charged with incest in 1756 or the brave stand made by Simon Oakden of Market Bosworth who refused, in1757, to pay £1. 7s towards repair of the parish church and as a result picked up a bill for costs of £42 -  but I think perhaps it would be better if I simply urged you to come to the exhibition. All being well, notwithstanding cuts and censorship – ‘Sex, Lies and Parchment’ should open at the Record Office on 8^th October. Come and find out more about the records of the Archdeaconry of Leicester!

With the onset of May and the warmer weather, in came an exhibition which featured the manufacture (and eating!) of Italian ice cream.  Mamma Mia!  How the Hokey Pokey men came to Leicester was a very interesting look at why and when Italians started arriving in Leicester at the end of the 19^th century.  It was lovingly created by local family historian Arthur Beyless, great-grandson of an Italian, Cesidio Persichetti, who emigrated with his family from Alvito, central Italy, to Leicester.  Not surprisingly, most of the early Italian settlers were into ice cream making, much to the pleasure of the inhabitants of the Wharf Street area of town, where many lived.  A traditional ice cream recipe was featured in the exhibition, thus revealing trade secrets!

For the past 18 months or so, the Record Office has been involved in a very challenging project to collect and research the family histories of local Gypsies and Travellers, in partnership with Leicester City Museums and with funding from Renaissance East Midlands.  Building up trust was the first hurdle, with a group of people who were naturally suspicious of our intentions.  Also, they were very surprised that anyone else would be interested in them, since for most of their history they have been subject to hostility.  However, with considerable work on both sides, we have created a new archive at the Record Office which begins to reveal something of the life stories and the heritage of Gypsies and Travellers who have passed through or settled in our county.  The exhibition, Stopping Places: stories of life on the road, which is at the Record Office in July and August, is a product of this work, and it looks at the lives of Gypsies today, contrasting them with how it was in their parents’ and grandparents’ days.  At the launch of this exhibition, several members of the Gypsy and Traveller community came to find out what we had been doing, and were amazed and delighted to see the results.  They begin to see the importance of recording and documenting their history, so that it will be known and understood by their children.  This exhibition and the work which lies behind it are very much a first step taken in a big and complex area of research, and we very much hope that the word will spread through the Gypsy community and that we will gain more information in the future, which we hope to incorporate on our website.  

And another piece of project work has begun to yield results.  Exploring the Legacy of Partition, 1947/48, which I mentioned in the last Dustsheet, now has a travelling exhibition and a website presence.  The exhibition looks back to the history leading up to Partition and the dreadful events of the time, and then shows how the project is working with people who have memories or photos dating from the days of Partition to collect personal stories which bring history alive.  The website, accessed via our Record Office website, has a number of images loaded into a picture gallery, and extracts from interviews already collected.  It also has a form where people can type in their memories directly.  On Saturday 5 July, we launched a new phase of the project, working in tandem with Leicester City Libraries, who have adopted the Legacy of Partition as the theme for their National Year of Reading events around libraries in the city this autumn.  At an event attended by many members of all the communities affected by Partition, Hindu, Sikh, Muslim and white ‘Raj’ survivors, the Lord Mayor of Leicester, Councillor Manjula Sood, and her mother, who was the first witness to be interviewed for the project, spoke warmly of the importance of the project to future generations.  An impressive collection of books on the subject of Partition, fiction and non-fiction, was on display, and is available for borrowing in city libraries.

The Friends of the Record Office for Leicestershire, Leicester & Rutland is a charity (No.515512) formed to support the work of the Record Office.  Membership details are available at the Record Office Reception.  Letters & comments to the Editor c/o The Record Office for Leicestershire, Leicester and Rutland, Long Street, Wigston Magna, Leicester, LE18 2AH.